Sweaters || Malum

Chapter 24

Song for the Chapter: I've Seen Better Days by Sublime

Countdown to Talent Show: 5 Days

Trigger warning

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Over a week had gone by and my father hadn't been home. Ashton and Luke refuse to talk to me, and Michael is ignoring my calls. Because my father's absence and my Mum's inability to care about me through the divorce; I've been skipping school. They have been calling the house phone and I always pick up, but I always hang up when they ask where I have been. I am surprised that my father still hasn't arrived, and even more surprised the police. Unexcused absences for over a week, it doesn't look good.

All I know is that I was going to go back tomorrow and attempt to make up my work. It was Monday evening and it wasn't like my catching up on work was going to matter in a week. I step out of the shower, looking down at the healed wounds on my arms. The pink and visible scars made me frown, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I go into my bedroom and pull out some clothes, pulling up some plaid sweatpants and a black Blink-182 shirt. I go back into the steamy bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. The bruise had healed, yet I frown at my small deformities. There was a small white scar next to my left eyebrow, a small scar on the corner of my lip, a barely noticeable one on my chin, and a few on both my cheeks. They were only completely noticeable if you were looking for them.

I got them from the times I have been hit. I go back into my room, turning off the light. I sit down on my bed and open up my laptop, going to Twitter. I see that I had a lot of notifications and I click on them, seeing more things from Kyle Dalton.

"anyone else see that bruise??! glad calbear_hood got what he deserved lol #ugly #fag"

"calbear_hood hasn't been at school. wonder why #suicide #hopeful"

But then I see something that gives me a lot of suspicion; "calbear_hood is such a snitch, not sure if anyone knew lol goody two shoes #hate #gross"

Snitch? I grab my phone and look at the unknown number then go to text Michael.

Mikey, you've been ignoring me and I am not sure why. But can you please tell me if you know this number? ***-****??

I place my phone down, hoping that I didn't know what I thought I did. My phone buzzes and I see the dreadful text.

Uh yeah it's Ashton's.. why?

I place my phone down and go downstairs, trying to think of something to do. I walk into the downstairs bathroom and look at myself in the dirty, small mirror. I clench my fist tightly and tell myself over and over to do it. 

I raise my fist and I could see my reflection follow my actions. I hear glass shatter and that previous reflection changes to my face being broken up by the cracks in the glass. I could see spots of blood on the mirror and I look down at my hand. Blood drops from my knuckles and fingers onto the floor. I smile and look back in the mirror. I try straightening out my hand and then make a sound of pain, and look at it again. I see small shards of glass sticking out of my hand.

Then I hear something worse. I hear the front door open, then slam. I turn off the bathroom light and slowly begin closing the door, hoping he wouldn't hear where I was. "Calum!" My father's voice rings out through the quiet house. Then the door makes a loud creak and I curse myself as the door flings open and my father's attention immediately diverts to the shattered mirror. "Did you do this?" He asks me and I am virtually speechless. "I asked you something!"

"Y-Yes sir." I reply quietly. He grabs my upper arm tightly and pulls me out of the small dark room and throws me to the ground in the foyer. I begin crying, knowing what I was about to be put through. "Where have you b-been?" I shakily ask my father, trying to delay his actions as much as I could.

"None of your fucking business, you disgusting disgrace!" He spat, kicking my abdomen. 

"Shit." I curse in pain at the rough blow. I see my father bend down and he grabs a handful of my hair. "Stop." I cry as he shoves me into the cabinets.

"Fight back!" He orders, kneeing my jaw. He looks down at me with merciless eyes and gives me a smile. He grabs my jaw and forces me to look at him. "Pathetic." He says, taking a couple steps away from me. I get up from the ground and he turns around. "I didn't say move." 

"I am not taking an order from you." I reply. I feel something warm drip down my chin and I wipe it away. I see blood freshly wiped on my arm. With my clean hand I put it up to my mouth and pull it away. Blood.

He laughs and replies, "Yes you are. Fucking cower back into the corner like you're best at. I can see from the disappointment written all over your arms that you like pain anyway."

He comes towards me and with the same hand with the glass in it, I throw a punch. My father stumbles back and hits the ground. I see blood coming from his cheek and I violently whisper swear words to myself.

I go towards the stairs, stepping on my father's body three times going towards it. He was so drunk he hardly could get up from the predicament with the floor he was in. I go into my room and close the door, locking it. I go into my bathroom and sit down on the toilet. The dried blood on my hand made it harder to move because of the discomfort.

I open the medicine cabinet, pulling out a pair of tweezers. I sit back down and take a hold of the largest shard of glass lodged into my knuckle. I pull it out and I sigh in relief as blood comes up from the wound but I let it drop onto the ground. I pull out seven other smaller shards of glass from my knuckle. I take a fresh ACE bandage and wrap it around my knuckle. I would just hope this to heal almost completely before the talent show on Saturday.

I quickly clean up the small amount of blood that had accumulated on my bathroom floor. After that I go to my bed, moving my laptop and phone off of the mattress. I turn off the light as well and lay down in the bed. I let a few tears fall and my eyes begin to throb before I finally fall asleep.